


Through The Void

by existentialvoiding



Category: Danisnotonfire - Fandom, One Direction (Band), Phandom
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Friendship, Funny, M/M, Schmoop, Semi-Crack, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 20:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10624317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/existentialvoiding/pseuds/existentialvoiding
Summary: In the post-1D era, Dan's not really in the fandom anymore. He's just not--feelingit on a daily base. That is until he and Phil get to interview Harry for the BBC, and a new friendship blossoms... or does the future hold more than just that?





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a hilariously cracky idea ("what if Dan and Harry started dating") but it's SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE so I'm just going to do it.
> 
> PS. Dan and Harry if you hook up thanks to this fic pls invite me yeah? Thanks. (JK but you can come scold me and put me to shame at the existentialvoiding URL on Tumblr)

 

Dan isn’t that obsessed with One Direction anymore.

It’s mostly because One Direction itself isn’t much anymore. He still listens to the music sometimes, and when he’s bored he finds fic to read or videos to watch on YouTube. He’s just not in the throes of obsession anymore, and his crush on—well— _all_ of the band members has been taking a back seat to crushes on new people, different interests, anime.

That doesn’t mean he’s not shaking a little when BBC one gives him and Phil the assignment to interview Harry. They want something casual, something witty, something relatively low-key because apparently that is what Mr. Styles requested. That and specifically not Grimmy, which is a bit odd although it possibly explains why Dan saw Nick walking around looking like he ate a raw potato.

Dan doesn’t mind Mr. Styles’ request one bit.

(Phil probably does, by now. Dan can’t quite shut up about it.)

-

The day of the interview, he’s not hungry.

Phil is shaking the Honey Nut Cheerios in his face, but Dan grimaces and shoves it away.

“You need to eat, Dan,” Phil says, going full mother-hen on him. “It’s important, small boys have to grow.”

“I don’t need food,” he mutters, “I just need to not think and I’m going to do that by simulating a void in every way I can.”

Phil rolls his eyes but he’s there to support Dan, Dan knows. Quietly, because they both know that when Dan gets nervous like this he starts to work himself up the moment he opens his mouth.

He’s also there with a mostly-empty packet of jaffa cakes when they arrive at the BBC Radio studios and Dan’s stomach is starting to snarl at him. The cake tastes dry and too sweet and it hurts his stomach but Dan powers through with a hot cup of tea. Easy like that they’re on their way to the room that’s been set up for the interview.

He’s pretty sure it’s only going to be filmed for YouTube, and that’s fine by him. He doesn’t need people to hear him stuff up on a live broadcast.

Harry’s not there yet so he can finish his drink while Phil reads over the interview questions they’ve set up and the list of topics they’re meant to avoid.

“It says _goldfishes_ here,” Phil says. “Do you reckon that’s the animal or the American cheesy things?”

“Pretty sure that says golden dishes,” Dan responds. “Honestly, Phil, take your glasses with you next time.” The joke’s so old it falls flat, and Phil just shrugs it off. He honestly doesn’t want to think about why anyone would even _ask_ about golden dishes, really. No—Dan definitely still wants to not-think.

They’ve still got some time to kill and Dan has a dry mouth so he grabs another cup of tea. He’s nursing it when Lisa, one of their producers, comes in to say that Harry is running a little late but should arrive within fifteen minutes.

“Just great,” Dan grumbles, and Phil snorts out a laugh.

“How are you dealing with the void-ness now?” Phil asks, and when Dan doesn’t respond, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he answers. “I just need to pee, I’ll be right back.”

“Happy tinkling,” Phil shouts after him. “Watch the glass doors!”

-

The bathrooms are just down the corridor, past the kitchenette-thing he got his tea from and the glass doors Phil warned him about, and Dan is briefly lost in fantasies about Harry pushing him up against a wall and snogging him senseless the moment he enters.

Instead the bathroom is brightly lit and startlingly empty. Like his feelings. _Empty_ _is good_ , he tells himself. _No feelings. No stress or nervousness_. He hums as he uses the urinal, keeping his eyes closed in a more-or-less meditative state of existential nothingness, and then washes his hands.

 When he is in front of the door and about to open it, it smacks into his face.

“FUCKING HELL,” he shouts, cradling his nose in both hands. He’s not sure if the hot wetness seeping into his hands is blood or snot (and he hopes it is blood, actually, because that would make him appear as less of an exaggerated little twat).

“I’m sorry!” the voice says, leading him back into the bathroom. Dan _knows_ that voice, but he’s still squirming with pain. _Please_ , he hopes, _don’t be Harry, don’t be Harry_. That would be a bitch of a situation, he doesn’t want them meeting like _this_.

Then there’s a warm hand on the back of his head and Dan briefly melts, just a little, before a wad of toilet paper is shoved into his face. He knows it is toilet paper because the BBC toilets only have the fancy (and frankly disgusting) air drying machines.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a loud voice is screaming _Harry Styles is touching you._ Instead he focuses on wiping the mess from his general mouth-and-nose area, which is nothing short of a worst case scenario.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry tells him again when Dan can finally open his eyes again. He does look rather apologetic about it too. Dan is trying to remember the E X ̨I S T̡ ̶E ̴N ͡T I̢ A L V O҉ ͘I ̨D (also dubbed the Existential Crisis 2.0 by Phil). It’s pretty hard, even when he gets a moment’s respite when Harry disappears in one of the cubicles (and Dan has the distinct impression Harry does it for Dan’s sanity, rather than his own privacy).

“Just,” Dan finally uprights himself, testing whether he can breathe in using his nose. With a little stinging pain he thinks that he can. “Just, I don’t know.” The sink is a wonderful support, and he leans over it to observe his nose in the mirror. It looks a bit red, but other than that—the pain definitely was far too intense for this non-injury.

Harry doesn’t seem too perturbed when he exits the bathroom—almost as if he’s seen worse things. Which he would have, Dan figures, and he rolls his eyes at himself.

Harry snorts and Dan realises belatedly he must have seen it in the mirror. _Gosh-diddly-darn_ (and clearly he’s in interview mode already  here but anything, even just thinking it, is better than _daddy_ ).

“I’m terribly sorry,” he tells Harry. “I just don’t meet world-famous pop stars on a daily base. Let alone get injured by them.”

“Hey, are you going to drop that soon?” Harry gently jibes as he stands next to Dan, washing his hands. “I’m sorry that happened, I didn’t realise anyone was inside.” Dan shrugs and Harry continues, “But I’ve made worse people fall for me.”

“I’m not some girl,” Dan protests, because it’s the first thing that comes to his mind even if it makes it sound like he’s misogynistic and homophobic and gross (while he loves women but also definitely men—he’s probably still a little gross, though).

“Sure thing, Becky,” Harry winks.

He touches Dan’s back as he walks around him, and belatedly Dan realises that that _definitely_ was flirting.

He’s really not around people often enough to pick up on social cues when he should. Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC


	2. existentialissimo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan gets over his shock and into the interview. Kinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for posting this with such a massive delay. Life happened. Let me quote my own fic: " _GRUUUOOOO AAAAAHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU._ "
> 
> Enjoy.

Before leaving the bathroom, Dan washes his voice with cold water. Then again, and then again, when finally he deems his face… well, his face looks like his face again. The weird red splotches on his cheeks have gone and the redness of his nose is less noticeable.

He finally traipses down the corridor, with more nerves knotted in his stomach than before. He doesn’t like facing people after awkward encounters—in fact, Dan likes to break character and run the opposite direction when he does see someone that’s seen him in social error mode.

Now there’s no escape, and it’s someone he thinks is a genuinely nice person. Hell, he’s fantasised about being friends with Harry for years—like millions of fan girls, no doubt, but for some reason he would be the _most_ special person in Harry’s life. And he has the opportunity to get close.

But of course, Dan blows it. He snorts to himself, winces, wishes he took some tissues from the bathroom.

He can see Phil through the floor-to-ceiling glass by the side of door, laughing and relaxed. He can see Lisa, who catches sight of him and waves him with a slightly worried look on her face (Dan is not sure if this is good or not—sympathy is nice, but he isn’t in pain anymore so he clearly didn’t break his nose and he honestly would rather just get this over with ASAP.)

 He knocks, twice,  because he’s _polite_ , _damnit_ , and then carefully enters. The door still squeaks, and of course Harry, his agent, Lisa and Phil all look up at him—and forget to continue talking in the mean time. It’s terrible.

“Are you alright?” Lisa asks him.

Dan nods, slowly making his way over to his place on the couch, careful not to trip. He can feel everyone’s eyes bore into him, and he imagines springing leaks and draining out on the floor. It would be a bloody mess, both figuratively and literally, and it would serve them right. He takes a deep breath, sighs, and says, “Shall we start, then?”

“Are you sure you don’t need a moment?” Phil asks him. He’s still doing the Worried Soccer Mom™, and Dan would like to reprimand him for it, but he’s crippled by his own morals and values in social settings.

“I’m fine, really,” he says as he puts on his bravest face, remembering all of those times he fell off his chair and soldiered on too. “I’m sure Mr. Styles has a full schedule today, and if I’m not fine by the end of this, I promise you that you can take me to A&E.”

Both Phil and Harry laugh at that, and Dan is dead set on not swooning, but it’s already difficult. Maybe bleeding out wouldn’t have been such a terrible end to his life after all, it sounds like it would be less painful than suffering through his own shame and awkward teenage lust (and that last feeling is a bit dusty nowadays, but give Dan five more minutes and he’ll be feeling sixteen again).

“I’m fine with starting,” Harry drawls languidly, with a little bit of spring to it. Like he’s happy and relaxed and quite pleased to be here, not at all upset at what transpired in the bathrooms earlier. (Dan is definitely swooning now. Harry’s eyes are dreamy, and his voice is dreamy, and his laugh is dreamy—and if he doesn’t stop thinking the word, he _will_ say it out loud.)

The cameras are rolling. Dan feels more in his element, feeling himself slip into his more professional mode, and the nerves ebb away as the mood grows more relaxed and they get into a flow.

-

Afterwards, Harry shakes their hands and gives them a hug. Dan’s briefly overwhelmed again, especially because Harry smells incredibly nice—coconut and coffee and a light musky after shave—and because he is really an amazing hugger.

When he’s gone, Phil starts laughing. First it’s a little giggle, then it’s a snort behind his hand, and then he slowly turns more and more pink as he doubles over.

“What?” Dan snaps at him, embarrassment taking a hold once more.

“Harry told us,” Phil says in a pause between giggles. “God, your face when you peered through the glass. I know I shouldn’t be laughing!” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I know I shouldn’t be, I am a terrible friend, I’m so sorry, but you looked so put out.”

“Did you spend the entire interview trying not to laugh?”

Phil must say yes, but all Dan can hear is, “yearhg”. So much for friendship.

-

Dan can’t shake the feeling the rest of the day. Instead he doodles a little around half-arsed attempts at video productivity, which is always harder than it should be, and wonders if he should make a video about today. Maybe re-enact it, breathe some new life into Becky.

But—no. Becky is a thing of the past, regardless of Harry mentioning her. She belonged to old Dan, to the old place. This new house means a fresh start, and Dan is set on becoming an Functioning Adult (it’s not working too well so far, but looking back at where he was five years ago, he’s pretty sure that there’s been _some_ progress. He’s even managed to change his haircut again, after all. He’s wearing more expensive jumpers. He’s scans the papers he wants to throw out in case there are unpaid bills, even!)

Phil leaves him alone, mostly, so Dan re-watches _Free!_ to at least distract himself from all terrible things that happened today. He’s tempted to tell someone else about it, because Phil has given him nothing but grief (or at least, giggles) over the situation and Dan desperately craves some sympathy.

He’s got his phone in his hand to text, well, perhaps Louise—and it feels strange because it’s still brand new, because his old one broke after it fell out of his pocket a few weeks ago. The fall didn’t break it, the water in the toilet bowl did. That had been a new level of disgust for his own actions and behaviours, that day, beaten only by today.

He can’t bring himself to do it though. There’s a fair chance that other people know by now; for all Dan knows, the entire BBC office is aware of what happened, including the aftermath or, as Phil dubbed it, Dan’s Epic Sulk (Phil’s never been too imaginative with titles and names, so Dan’s disappointed but not surprised).

 Instead he fidgets for a while in his room, browsing Tumblr and then /r/aww, but nothing’s particularly interesting today. Even Yuri On Ice or Free! don’t catch his attention, so finally he just flops belly-first onto his bed and lets out a long, tired groan.

_GRUUUOOOO AAAAAHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU._

-

Dan finds himself in the living room at last. It’s nearing midnight and he’s jotting down video ideas, although so far those are mostly doodles that, if anything, bear most semblance to the poop emojis.

Phil’s with him, busily texting on his phone as he tries to support Dan. It’s a valiant effort, but Dan’s not quite Feeling it.

“What if this had happened to someone else?” Phil asks him. “You’d have seen the fun in it then, wouldn’t you?”

“I do see the amusement of the situation,” Dan huffs as he sinks a little deeper into the sofa crease. "I just don't think it's funny." If only the couch could eat him. That would be a slow and dreamy death—cloudy. Nice. He’d not be alone, that’s what he means. He’s immediately enveloped by another wave of self-loathing, remembering the way that _Harry Styles_ laughed at him.

“You cried, that makes it extra funny,” Phil says, sipping at his Ribena™. Dan downed his fifteen minutes ago, pretending it was wine. Phil’s been pretty deadpan about the ordeal, and Dan is as well at random intervals before being struck down by crippling embarrassment that only serves to strengthen his already quite strong dislike of social interaction.

“I cried manly tears of manliness,” Dan deadpans. “And it was mostly my noise expelling moisture.”

Phil cringes.

“Moist,” Dan repeats, edging closer to Phil as he lowers his voice. “Moist, moisturizing moisture being moist instead your moist noise—shit, I mean nose.”

Phil is flashing his not-amused-eyes at Dan. Dan sighs loudly, as emotive as possible.

“Don’t be an anime character,” Phil tells him. “It’s not _that_ bad.”

Dan stays quiet.

“It’s really not,” Phil repeats himself.

This time, Dan does want to reply. Instead his phone buzzes, accompanied by the most basic ringtone his phone had as preset (Dan’s a basic bitch, he’s not gonna argue that).

The text says / _hey you ok Dan? / ._ There is no name and it’s an unfamiliar number.

This isn’t the first time it’s happened. Some of his friends are sufficiently famous that mentioning their name after getting a new phone number would be Bad one way or another. And even if it could, hypothetically, be Harry Styles texting him regarding the events of earlier today…..

Dan snorts to himself. It’s a cool hypothesis, but undoubtedly false.

He can’t act as if he doesn’t know this person’s name, however, so he just pretends he knows exactly who they are and texts back, / _I’m good, how are you?_ /  and rolls his eyes at himself. He’ll find out at some point.

(Even if it took him three hours of texting with Phil before realising it was Phil. #Awkward.)


End file.
